


Flesh Wound

by likethenight



Category: King Arthur (2004)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 01:03:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2832524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likethenight/pseuds/likethenight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's only a flesh wound." Gawain gritted his teeth as Galahad inspected the Woad arrow in his leg.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flesh Wound

**Author's Note:**

> This was a fic-on-demand written back in about 2004 on LJ for a friend who was going by the name of bandonbanshee at the time and requested a fic featuring an arrow wound; I don't know whether she's on here or what name she has now, but Lindsey, if you see this, it's for you!
> 
> Python references purely intentional. :D

"It's only a flesh wound." Gawain gritted his teeth as Galahad inspected the Woad arrow in his leg.

"Don't be an idiot. It's gone almost all the way through your thigh. Any further and it would've pinned you to Northwind. We'll have to cut your breeches away to get the arrow out. Bet you wish you wore a kilt like me now." Galahad smiled brightly, and Gawain felt like hitting him. Galahad ducked out of the way, still smiling, though it was just possible to see the concern in his eyes. "I'm going to go and get Tristan to sort this out for you. He's got a steadier hand than I have, particularly in such a...sensitive area." 

Gawain growled, in no mood for Galahad's banter. He wasn't about to admit it, but the arrow wound was giving him a considerable amount of pain and making him rather grumpier than usual. "Come back here, you smug, skirted bastard, I'll bite your bloody knees off."

"You can bite whatever you like," came Tristan's calmly amused voice before Galahad had a chance to reply, "but not until that arrow is out and the wound has been dressed."

Gawain heaved a sigh; if there was one thing he was less in the mood for than Galahad's happy chatter, it was Tristan's air of knowing exactly what they all got up to when nobody was around.

Still, he was quick and efficient at field medicine, and he had the arrow out and the wound dressed in next to no time, though not without a large amount of pain and swearing on Gawain's part.

"There. That should not trouble you too much," said Tristan. "I will leave you to your biting." He cast a meaningful glance at Gawain's hand clasping Galahad's; he had grabbed it when Tristan had cut his thigh to ease out the arrow head, and had evidently forgotten to let go.

As Tristan made off silently through the trees, Galahad looked rather hesitantly at Gawain and asked if he could have his hand back. Gawain loosed it and Galahad sat back, rubbing his knuckles.

"Sorry," muttered Gawain, and Galahad smiled, knowing he was not simply apologising for nearly breaking Galahad's hand.

"That's all right. It was a nasty wound." The smile turned into a grin. "Now, what were you saying about biting my knees off? You can _start_ with my knees, if you're feeling up to it."

Gawain laughed, shaking his head and pulling Galahad into a hug. "I'm sure I'll manage somehow. As long as you promise never again to suggest I wear a kilt."

Galahad pretended to consider this. "But you have such nice legs - oh all right, maybe not," he finished hurriedly as Gawain growled again. "On second thoughts, no, I like you exactly as you are. In breeches."

"Galahad?"

"Um. Yes?"

"Shut up."

"With pleasure," said Galahad happily, taking this as a sign that it would now be all right to kiss Gawain as thoroughly as he was able. The biting could wait.


End file.
